


I'll have you. However I want.

by WeNeedARuse



Series: When it's like this. [1]
Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Choking, Drabble, Dutch Being Dutch, Established Relationship, Hand & Finger Kink, Hand Jobs, M/M, One Shot, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, Tags confuse me, established in a way, literally just a fic about a handjob, self indulgent, sorry - Freeform, vandermorgan - Freeform, well mild choking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-03
Updated: 2019-04-03
Packaged: 2020-01-04 05:07:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18336785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WeNeedARuse/pseuds/WeNeedARuse
Summary: Dutch and Arthur in the dark.





	I'll have you. However I want.

**Author's Note:**

> So, I enjoyed posting my last one so much I decided on another! This is purely self indulgent, just something that pops into my mind every so often when I'm supposed to be working. 
> 
> It's not the greatest...but I hope it brings joy.
> 
> Again, all spelling, grammar and random words I've missed are all my mistakes!
> 
> Kudos and comments are always welcome :)

When hands circle his throat, Arthur knows to keep quiet. He swallows, feels fingers follow the movement, the press of a body full against his back. He keeps his mouth firmly closed.  
He wants this.  
If he speaks, he’ll get nothing. 

It’s happened before.

Hands slide down his front, brushes his stomach and he inhales, a sharp intake of breath as his gun belt is unbuckled and dropped to the ground. He presses his lips into a firm line, even as his erection strains at the front of his jeans, waiting…  
“It has been a while.” Whispered against his ear, that voice deep with lust. As only Arthur knows it. 

“Nothing to say?” A chuckle against his skin. Arthur turns his head a little and looks into those cold, deep, unfathomable eyes. He smirks, a little, then turns away, facing forwards once more. He takes one of the hands and presses it over his clothed cock.

It is not in him to be fully submissive.

Dutch accepts that. 

A groan escapes his lips as Dutch finally unsnaps one of his suspenders, his other hand still palming his aching cock. Finally, finally it slips inside. Cold rings burn as fingers encircle him.

Arthur hisses and drops his head back against that always willing shoulder. 

It’s night. Clemens point is quiet behind them, the river deep and swift before them. And Arthur juts into that hand, fingers curled tight by his sides. He can’t touch. Not when it’s like this. 

When it’s like this, it’s all Dutch. 

He can’t really complain.

There is barely a sound. Only the slick swipe of a hand over him, Dutch’s soft breaths behind him. He presses back as a finger curls around the head of his cock and feels that answering hardness firmly pressed against his backside. He presses back again, harder this time, and is rewarded with a growl.

“You stop that now.” Dutch’s free hand comes to his throat again, fingers squeezing just at the base of his jaw. Arthur closes his eyes and remembers the first time, the last time, the time Dutch fucked him in his tent while Molly waited outside. The time...that one time...when Dutch was soft and needy and full of something other than wounded pride...the one time he let him inside…

He’s close.

He doesn’t want to come. Not yet. Not until…

The fingers tighten on his throat at the moment they tighten on his cock. Arthur sees stars, drops his head back further and lets himself fall. Dutch ruts against him, shallow thrusts that make him remember...

“Come on. That’s it.” Stroking faster now. “For me. Do it for me, Arthur.” 

And he wants to.

He’d do anything for him.

He comes, shocked and strident. Not a sound even though he wants to scream. He feels boneless all of a sudden, weightless, and if he didn’t have that hand on his throat, the other arm wrapped around his come-streaked stomach, he knows he’d fall.

He never knows when Dutch comes, or even if he does when it’s like this. He doesn’t know if he comes when Arthur does, or if he takes the memory of this back to his tent. He never knows, and he never asks.

“Next time,” He’s almost startled by the voice. It’s no longer deep, cajoling, teasing. It’s strong, and powerful and all Dutch. “I’ll have you. However I want.” Then the hands leave him and he feels...empty almost. As if something vital is missing. 

“Be ready.” 

Arthur tucks himself back into his jeans, straightens himself out. Kicks dust over the drops of come by his feet. He doesn’t turn round. He won’t see him face to face. Not this time.

“Okay Dutch.” He hears him chuckle again, and then the steps recede into the darkness. Arthur falls, drops to his knees. He listens for sounds of anyone else and when satisfied there’s noone there he presses his fingers to his throat. He spreads them out, exactly as Dutch did and applies the smallest bit of pressure. He closes his eyes, and smiles into the darkness.


End file.
